Spanish Summer Chapter One

Itinerary
Day 1. Madrid
Arrive in Madrid. Meet and greet at the airport with your private driver and guide. Enjoy a drive around the city before settling into your hotel for the evening.

Cool air flowed down the bus steps and out of the open door, beckoning me up into air-conditioned relief. I waited my turn to board the large diesel tour bus, idling outside the Madrid airport. At last, I got close enough to grab the hand railing and propel myself on board, and out of the sweltering sun of late July.

“Welcome to Spain,” a man on the top step repeated to each person who boarded. He smiled at me as I stepped up, that polite smile everyone in the travel industry learns on the first day of work, and reached for my hand. I found myself staring at him. I hadn’t expected a cute tour guide. This guy was adorable. He looked to be about 24 or 25, only a couple of years older than I was. His hair was short and brown, and his chocolate eyes seemed almost too big. As I took his hand to help me up, he smiled a completely different smile, one meant just for me. My heart skipped a beat.

“Welcome to Madrid,” he said to me. Squeezing past him, I noticed he was a good four or five inches taller than I was, maybe even as tall as six feet. I smiled up at him, our faces less than a foot apart. “Thanks,” I said.

Walking back through the aisle, I quickly decided on a window seat. The blue-and-silver-striped seat cushioned me as I sank into it and I felt immediately drowsy. It always amazes me how tired I can get after sitting on an airplane all day. I looked down at a little sticker on the window. “Date of Service: July 1988” it said. Wow, I thought, we have a brand new bus!

I rooted through my bag for my Walkman and slipped on the headphones. George Michael crooned in my ears as I watched the people boarding. I remembered seeing one of the married couples on the plane. They spoke with loud voices and Southern accents, maybe from Louisiana or Mississippi, and laughed a lot. I imagined I’d have fun traveling with them.

Two older women boarded. They appeared to be traveling together. A young woman with short brown hair boarded alone. The tour guide offered his hand to each one. Then suddenly he took a step back. A blond woman boarded unassisted, stopped at the door, and asked where she should sit. She stood very close to the tour guide, so close he backed up a bit, frowning. He mumbled something I couldn’t hear. The blond smiled, slowly moving past him to a seat in the second row.

Finally, the bus doors closed and the guide turned to face us. I could see his hand shaking as he reached into a compartment above his head and pulled out a microphone. Slipping off my headphones, I sat up to pay attention.

“Hello,” he said into the microphone, after noisily clearing his throat. “I am José, and I will be your guide for this tour. This,” he gestured to the bus driver, “is Paolo and he will be our driver. He does not speak English, only Spanish and Portuguese, so he is not ignoring you.” Everyone laughed politely.

“We are now going to our hotel here in Madrid. This is my home town, so I will be happy to show you some of the sights.”

“Where can we get a bite to eat tonight?” a voice piped up from behind me.

“There is a restaurant in the hotel. If you want other suggestions, please come talk to me once we arrive.”

The bus finally began edging out of the parking lot and José sat down in the front seat to continue his introduction.

“We will meet in the hotel restaurant at seven tomorrow morning for your included breakfast. The bus will leave at half past eight. Until then, you have free time. You may explore the city, or just relax in the hotel.”

I looked away from our guide and watched the scenery passing. The relatively flat area around the airport turned into rocky hills, and mountains in the distance. The vegetation seemed to fight for a place to grow among the rocks and rough terrain. Juniper and fir trees grew in abundance. The closer we got to the city, the more houses we saw. Gradually, the houses gave way to apartment buildings. As we got into the heart of the city, José began telling us about the various statues, monuments, and other places of interest. This one was a soldier, that one was a mythological figure. Over there is the palace, a department store, the ubiquitous McDonald’s. I entertained myself by trying to read the signs we sped past: hairdresser, pharmacy, shoes. All those years of Spanish classes were finally going to pay off.

We arrived at the hotel and everyone piled off the bus. We entered the old brick building and gathered as a group in the lobby. José handed out the room keys to each pair of roommates, and one to each of the single women. I had never stayed in a hotel room by myself before. The key in my hand gave me a real feeling of being grown up.

The blond, whose name was Jill, took her key when her name was called and smiled at José. “I’m in 218,” she whispered to him. He seemed not to hear her and went on with his task. Jill reminded me of some of the pushy girls I went to college with, assuming that this guy she just met would want her room number. Pathetic. I turned and walked through the marble-floored lobby. The front desk sat to the left, the gift shop to the right. Past the gift shop I saw the entrance to the restaurant, with a little sign saying they would open at 8 o’clock.

I walked over to the front desk. “Excuse me,” I said. “¿Habla inglés?”

“Yes,” the lady behind the desk said, “how may I help you?”

“Are there any places to eat around here that open earlier than 8?”

She smiled sympathetically. “McDonald’s,” she said.

“Really? That’s it?”

“Evening mealtime in Spain is 8 o’clock or later,” a voice said behind me. José had come over to join in the conversation.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“No. Most restaurants do not even open until 8.”

“Oh. Well, I guess I’ll eat later. Thanks.” I turned and walked to the elevator.

My room did not win high marks for comfort or luxury, but for a recent college graduate traveling alone, it fit the bill. I tossed my purse on the rust-red bedspread and walked over to open the matching curtains. There was just enough space to walk between the bed and the dresser. I looked out the window to a lovely view of a roof. My watch read quarter past 6. What time was that at home? Noon? One? I figured I had time enough for a nap before dinner.

A knock on the door alerted me to the arrival of my luggage. I opened the door and my suitcase greeted me. It had my room number written on it in chalk. Whoever had left it there was already gone, so I picked up the case and brought it into the room.

I wondered as I drifted off if I’d get to know anyone in my group. I was certainly the youngest one there. Would I have anything in common with anyone?

The alarm woke me from a dream about trying to order McDonald’s food in Spanish. I couldn’t think of the word for hamburger and my stomach kept growling too loud for me to hear the person behind me in line, who was trying to help me. Switching off my alarm, I sat up and rubbed my eyes, realizing I was really hungry.

I made my way back down to the lobby and found the restaurant just opening for the evening. The brunette woman I’d seen on the bus walked in behind me.

“Hey, do you mind if we share a table?” she said. “I noticed you were alone, too.”

“Um, no, that’s fine, I guess. I’m Michelle.”

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Janet.” She reached out and pumped my hand enthusiastically. The restaurant host guided us to the nearest table and handed each of us a laminated one-page menu.

“Oh, boy,” she said, “I don’t speak Spanish.”

I hadn’t realized until I looked at the menu that I knew very few food words in Spanish. I guided her in choosing some chicken and vegetables, ordering the same for myself.

During dinner, Janet chatted incessantly about her home in Indiana, her job at an insurance agency, her two cats, and her decision to just stop waiting for the perfect time and take that trip to Spain already. She seemed happy to talk about herself, so I just kept quiet and ate.

“Now you tell me all about you,” Janet said suddenly.

Gulping the mouthful of food I’d been chewing, I said, “Well, let’s see: I just graduated college, I live in Maryland, and I don’t have a boyfriend. What else did you want to know?”

“Any pets?”

“I used to have a cat, but he got hit by a car.”

“Oh.” We ate the rest of the meal in silence, as though my cat’s death had also killed any hope of further conversation.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Janet said as we walked out of the restaurant.

“Yeah, sure. See you.” I stopped to gaze in the neon-lit window of the gift shop and Janet walked toward the elevator.

“Did you eat here?” a voice from behind me asked. I turned around to find the blond, Jill, standing there. She had changed into a cute little strapless blue dress that showed off her figure. Her makeup looked fresh and I smelled some sort of floral perfume.

“Um, yeah, I did. It was pretty good.” The elevator bell dinged and José walked into the lobby. Jill immediately left my side and fairly skipped over to him.

“José, hi! Have you eaten?”

He took a step back toward the elevator as she bore down on him. “Yes, yes I have,” he said. “I was going to the bar.”

“Oh!” she squealed, “That sounds great! I’ll come!”

José turned to me, a pleading look in his eyes. Please, he seemed to be saying, rescue me.

“Me too,” I said. Jill glared at me. I pretended not to notice.

We walked across the lobby to the bar, which was nestled behind the front desk and practically invisible except for the cigarette smoke drifting out. José gestured for the two of us to go ahead. The dark, smoky bar had a few booths and some round tables. Some sort of soft elevator music played in the background, and the air smelled of stale beer. It was deserted, except for us. We found a small table with four chairs around it and sat down.

Jill ordered a rum and Coke. José looked to me. I wasn’t a big drinker, but I knew I didn’t like beer. I shrugged, hoping for a suggestion.

José smiled. “I will order for you,” he said. He walked up to the bar, returning a moment later with two drinks.

“Vodka y naranja,” he said. Vodka and orange juice.

“What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. It’s on me.” He winked, a mysterious half-smile on his face.

I took a sip. It was sweet and bitter at the same time, and felt smooth on my tongue. I swallowed, loving the warm feeling the drink gave me. “Thanks.”

I watched José edge his chair away from Jill, and I watched Jill scoot hers closer to him. Like some sort of ballet, they went scoot-scoot. Scoot-scoot. Scoot-scoot. Sipping from my drink, I suppressed a giggle.

“Is this your first time in Spain?” José asked.

He was looking at me, but Jill jumped to answer. “I’ve never been here before, but I’ve been to Italy and France. And England”

“First time for me, too,” I answered.

“And why do you travel alone?” he asked, looking at me.

Again, Jill jumped right in. “I was supposed to be traveling with my husband, but he decided at the last minute that a business deal was more important than me. So,” she faux chuckled, “here I am.”

I looked at José with a raised eyebrow. This woman was married? He was looking at her, shaking his head in seeming sympathy. Then he turned to me.

“So, how about you?” José asked me.

“Oh, this is a graduation present from my parents. Their way of thanking me for getting a scholarship so they didn’t have to pay my tuition.”

“Wow,” Jill said, “they let you come to Europe alone?”

“Well, they were going to come too. But they decided they would be cramping my style.”

“They must really trust you,” Jill said. “My parents would never have let me come to Europe alone.”

“Well, I am with a group. It’s not like I’m wandering the country by myself.”

“Even so, they must trust you.”

“I guess so.” I took another sip of my drink, surprised to notice it was almost gone. José jumped to his feet.

“I’ll get you another,” he said. Before I could object, he was up at the bar.

Three drinks later, I stumbled my way back upstairs. I had a nice buzz going and felt more talkative than usual, so when Jill invited me to her room to chat, I agreed. Knowing that she had had three rum and Cokes, I figured maybe I could get some interesting confessions out of her.

“You are so lucky to be here on your own,” she said. “No attachments, nobody bothering you. Nobody to worry about but yourself.”

“I guess,” I said. To tell the truth, I didn’t feel lucky. I was starting to feel a little homesick. Maybe that was just the three vodka y naranjas. “So, how long ago did you plan this trip?”

“We bought the tickets four months ago, but we’ve been planning this trip for two years.” She flopped down on her bed. I pulled out a chair from the corner and sat down.

“Two years? Did it take that long to save up?”

She scoffed. “Hardly. My husband’s a lawyer. No, we planned this trip because it’s our tenth anniversary.”

“What, you mean now?”

“That’s right. I’m spending my tenth wedding anniversary on a solo trip to Spain.” She laughed, then almost immediately her face twisted and she began to cry. “My wonderful, loving husband of ten years thought it was more important to work than to be with his wife on our anniversary.”

I was beginning to get very uncomfortable. “That sucks,” I said.

She sniffled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, tell me about it. Of course, I would’ve bet my life savings he wouldn’t come. This is the fourth trip he’s missed.”

I wasn’t really in the mood to hear what was wrong with Jill’s marriage, though I couldn’t help but wonder if she knew her husband would bail on her. Maybe she wanted to travel alone and flirt with all the men she met. It seemed like a good time to ask about her rather obvious interest in our tour guide. “So, what do you think of José?”

“José?”

“You know, our guide? The guy we just spent an hour with in the bar?”

“Oh, is that his name? I didn’t catch it.”

Before I could repeat the question, she jumped up off the bed, swiping the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips. “Hey, do you have a hairdryer?” she asked.

It took me a second to switch gears. “Hairdryer? Um, no.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me. “Really? Well, how do you get your hair like that?”

I put a self-conscious hand to my head. My dark brown hair was cut shoulder-length, curled up at the ends, with bangs that just brushed the tops of my eyebrows. “I just let it dry on its own. It’s naturally wavy and it just kind of,” I gestured to my head, “does this.”

“Lucky you,” she said. Her own hair was stick-straight, feathered at the sides and big on top. Now that I looked at it, I could see dark roots, too. “I need to blow dry mine, and I forgot my hairdryer.”

“I bet José can tell us where to buy one. He’s from here, after all.”

“Oh, right. I’ll ask him in the morning.” She kicked off her shoes and flopped back on the bed. “So, you just graduated?”

“That’s right. Class of ’88.” I twirled my finger in the air in a ‘whoopdie doo’ gesture.

“What did you major in?” she asked.

“English. Exciting, right? But hey, if you want to discuss 18th century literature, I’m up for it.”

“Did you write a thesis?”

“Sure. I attempted to spice up an otherwise dull undertaking by writing about sexuality in D.H. Lawrence.”

Jill grinned at me. “So you’re like an expert on sex?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that. You should’ve seen the looks I got from some of the male professors, though. I swear my advisor was passing around my unfinished pages all semester.” I lowered my voice as though I thought someone else might hear me. “The funniest part is, I’m a virgin.”

Why did I say that? It was true, but I didn’t usually go around announcing it. Stupid vodka.

Jill just looked at me. Then she grinned.

“That’s a riot!” she said. “So, what, you don’t have a boyfriend?”

“No, not right now. And I went to a women’s college, so guys were pretty scarce then, too.” Anxious to change the subject, I asked, “So how did you meet your husband?”

“Oh, we grew up together. Always thought we’d end up married. He’s such a hunk. Here, let me show you a picture.” She rolled backward on the bed and reached for a small picture frame on the nightstand. “This is him,” she said, handing it to me.

Hunk indeed. He reminded me of the blond guy from Simon & Simon. Gorgeous hair, dimples, great body, or at least it looked like it under the tuxedo. “Nice,” I said.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Well, we’ve got an early start tomorrow. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Right, breakfast. Wonder what it’ll be?”

“Who cares, as long as there’s coffee.”

Day 2. Madrid
Enjoy breakfast. Meet your local guide for a personal tour of the old city. See the Royal Palace, the Prado Museum, and many of the beautiful historic sites of the city. Your afternoon is free to explore the city at your leisure. Dinner at a fine restaurant is included in your package. Overnight, stay in Madrid.

The next morning, my alarm went off, rousing me out of a deep, dreamless slumber. I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, looking forward to a quick shower and a hot breakfast. I chose a thin cotton strapless dress, one of four I’d packed. It was supposed to be a hot day.

The breakfast room was already full of people when I arrived. I spotted Janet sitting alone and debated whether or not I wanted to spend another meal listening to her inane chatter. Then Jill popped up behind me.

“Michelle! How did you sleep?” She seemed entirely too perky to me for a woman who sat up too late drinking and talking. Maybe that was just because I didn’t feel very perky.

“Like the dead,” I replied. I reached for a plate at the front of a buffet line and quickly filled it with scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. At the end of the line sat the object of my longing: the coffee urn. I filled a cup and quickly found a seat.

As I glanced around the room, I saw José come into the restaurant. He looked freshly showered and wore a short-sleeved white shirt, blue tie and powder blue pants. His dark hair was neatly combed and still a bit damp, and I noticed as he approached that his chocolate brown eyes were a tiny bit bloodshot. He reminded me of a sleepy puppy.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said to Jill and me. “I trust you had a good evening?”

“Yes, thanks,” Jill said.

“And thanks for the drinks,” I added.

“My pleasure.” Suddenly he looked down at his feet as if he were embarrassed. “I will see you later.” He turned to the next table and greeted the two couples seated there.

Jill followed José and whispered something to him from behind. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I clearly heard him say, “Please, don’t.”

After breakfast, we all gathered in the lobby. Paolo, the bus driver, stood waiting for us. “Buenos días,” he said to me.

“Buenos días,” I answered.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” José said. “This morning, we will be touring some famous places here in my home city of Madrid. I hope you will love my city as much as I do. There are a few rules you must follow as we travel. First, please stay with the group. When we stop for pictures, stay within sight of the bus. I will make a count of people before we leave an area, and we will not leave without you, but it is still a good idea to stay within sight.”

He held up a red clipboard. “When we are in a building, I will hold this up. That means follow me, or gather together. Please make sure to come right away when you see it.” He lowered the clipboard. “And finally, I will be paying admission costs for everyone, as this was included in your tour price. So I will distribute tickets once we arrive at each location. Please wait for me to give you your tickets.” He gestured toward the door. “That is all. Let us go.”

We followed him out of the hotel and boarded the bus. He stood at the front and counted us all. He mouthed numbers in Spanish; there were twenty of us. A nod to Paolo, and the bus door swished shut. We were off.

This time, I had chosen to sit in the second row aisle seat, behind José, just to see what Jill would do. She sat next to me on the other side of the aisle. I sighed.

José turned around and smiled at me. I had chosen the aisle seat deliberately so we could a have a chat, but with Jill across from me, I couldn’t really think of a topic I wanted to discuss three ways. I chose to simply smile back.

The silence was clearly too much for Jill. She felt compelled to talk. “José, where can I buy a hairdryer?”

He looked over at her. “A hairdryer?” He thought for a moment. “There is a department store not far from our hotel. You will need to take a bus to get there. But I’m sure they would have one.”

“Oh, that sounds complicated.” She frowned. “I’m not sure I can find my way around the city by myself.”

I could see where this was going. I felt compelled to rescue José once again.
“I can go with you,” I said. “I speak Spanish.”

José smiled gratefully at me. “I will make sure you board the correct bus,” he said.

“Thanks,” Jill said, though I got the distinct feeling she was not really happy with the outcome of her little quest for a hairdryer.